


Tea With Honey

by JohnAdamsNotQuincy



Category: Assassins - Sondheim/Weidman
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gangara, I told you I would do it!, Kawaii, M/M, Minor Character(s), Take this very very seriously, Written for those who had defied me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29176509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAdamsNotQuincy/pseuds/JohnAdamsNotQuincy
Summary: Tea has the power to heal. Honey makes things sweet. When combined, it is the most delicious medicine in the world. However, can tea with honey be used to describe the unspoken word?
Relationships: Charles J. Guiteau/Giuseppe Zangara
Kudos: 1





	1. Honey With Tea (Pt.1)

**Author's Note:**

> This was partially inspired by a roleplay btw

Howls reverberated throughout the Carnival, bouncing off the tent walls, rides, and confession stands around the spacious land. Each of these broken wails pounded against the ears of each assassin. The assassins would then greet these extended and painful groans by shoving their hands over their ears, creating louder noises, or directly ordering the screamer to stop. But each attempt to secure their ears failed as these cries broke through incrustations of focus and sanity. However, these cries and howls had continued periodically. So much so everyone forced themselves to ignore them whenever they occurred. No one carried the solicitude to check on the man making these noises. Well, that is what they believed for a while until someone prepared tea with honey.

  
“What are you making?” Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme moved close to the kitchen countertop, placing her hands beside the warm stove. She pushed her eyebrows down as she analyzed the actions of the man beside her, “Since when did you drink tea?”

  
“It’s not for me,” Charles Guiteau answered with a smile as he finished pouring the steaming water within the white mug. A loud cry from afar interrupted Guiteau as he opened up his mouth. A few seconds after he then spoke, “It’s for Zangara.”

  
“Joe?” Squeaky asked, following Guiteau as he entered the grand pantry that would be refilled magically, “Why are you giving him tea?”  
“To help him with his stomach,” Guiteau replied as he stepped on a wooden box to grab a jar on the fourth shelf. He jumped down with a broad smile plastered on his face, “Tea with honey.”

  
A toothy grin spread across her face as she continued to follow Guiteau back into the kitchen. Her light steps then became a skip.  
“Are we going to be free from his pain?” Squeaky asked, skipping around the kitchen’s island once before returning to Guiteau, “Well, are we?”

  
“I hope so,” Sam Byck walked over to the kitchen’s island and leaned his arms on it, keeping his face stuck with his annoyed expression, “I can’t listen to Lenny with all his fussin’ around. How can a small body like that make so much noise?”

  
“I hope to cure him of his pain,” Guiteau announced, straightening his back and enlarging his smile, “And to cure us from enduring any of his complaints and wailing!”

  
Squeaky, more excited and active, and Byck, growing a one-sided smile on his face and gruff voice, cheered at this. Guiteau felt warmth in his chest as he watched him cheer before taking the tea with honey. He began marching, taking high steps, as he headed over to Zangara’s room. He grasped onto the doorknob and twisted it open as a groan came out of Zangara’s room. Guiteau walked into the room with the smile shortening and his eyes set on the bed.

  
“I’ve got your tea, Giuseppe!” Guiteau called into the room, taking a few steps inside before closing the door with his free hand.

  
Zangara rolled over in his bed, turning from facing the wall to facing the door. His eyes were hollow and dead as he kept his eyes transfixed on Guiteau. Zangara laid there silently for a few seconds before lifting his head and offering a thin and strained smile. He then pushed himself to sit up, keeping himself stable with his skinny arms pressed against the bed.

  
“Squeaky and Byck watched me make it,” Guiteau told him as he headed over to Zangara, placing the tea on Zangara’s nightstand, “First time they saw me do it. I told them the same as I had told Booth and Coal-Gosh. Said I was trying a new diet habit.”

  
“They no suspect?” Zangara questioned him, raising a brow before taking the mug the tea was in shakily and blowing on it.

  
“They do not know a thing,” Guiteau reassured with a grin as Zangara took a sip of the tea. Guiteau watched him. Zangara’s soft lips, pressed against the ceramic mug, were glistering due to the golden tea. His cheeks were roses due to the heat of the tea. And his brown, liquid eyes would glimmer as he peered into the cup, reflecting off the glistering tea and the light of the room.

  
Guiteau snapped back to his senses due to the heat and wetness of the tea against his feet. The mug was lying on the planked ground, releasing the contents out of it. The resounding howl of Zangara then caught his attention. Guiteau moved his eyes from the mug before staring at Zangara. Zangara was clutching his stomach, clenching his shirt tightly. His teeth were barred together, and a painful, eerie moan or wail would release every second or so. His slim body began vigorously shaking, and every breath he took became increasingly quick and heavy.

  
“Giuseppe-”

  
“Venire,” Zangara’s mouth was quivering, and his voice was wavering, but he was still keeping his eyes on Guiteau’s, “Lay with me.”

  
Guiteau was taken aback by this request and was hesitant before moving. He went underneath the blankets, joining Zangara, who laid back down. Zangara, laying on his side, pushed himself into Guiteau’s arms. Guiteau wrapped his arms around Zangara and felt the heat from the smaller man’s body. He could feel him shake underneath his arms, causing Guiteau to pull Zangara closer.

  
“Giuseppe-”

  
“Hush…” Zangara quietly shushed before letting out a pained whimper, “'old me… no talking…”

  
Guiteau stayed silent for a handful of seconds before opening his mouth. However, he kept his mouth open only to then close after a short while. As Zangara whimpered and moaned, Guiteau would pull him closer and carefully stroke his back. Guiteau eventually closed his eyes, keeping Zangara in his arms. He smelled the black hair underneath his nose, taking in the Italian aroma of the shorter man. Guiteau found comfort in it. He always had. He thought he would prefer to find comfort in the good, young, Christian women in France. However, Zangara’s presence warms him. It made him happy in a way unlike how God, the Bible, and even women had made him happy.

Touching the soft, tanned body would cause his skin to tingle. Hearing his thick accent and broken English causes his heart to skip a few beats. Witnessing his clear and magnetic eyes, watching the wonders within them, causes his face to redden. Seeing the smile that would quickly hide, begging for it to come out again, to know they are both alright. The stomach was the problem, ruining Zangara’s smile and hiding him away, keeping Guiteau away from him. So this is why he prepared tea with honey.

Tea, tainted with honey, could cure any illness. At least, that was what Guiteau heard. He had walked into Zangara’s room with a cup of it, and the first thing that happened was a pillow hitting his face. However, an angry yell told him to gitout. But the anger and the yelling did not stop Guiteau when he pushed his way past pillows and insisted that the Italian drank the tea. He did and then ordered him to leave. The next day Zangara asked him for tea. At that moment, Guiteau knew he had triumphed over Zangara's stomach.

And then he continued visiting, and Zangara continued letting him in. The persistence to continue going had held onto Guiteau ever since that day. And Guiteau started to question himself around the other man daily. The way he gazes at him, the astonishing things he thinks about him, the way he had adored him, and the way he talks about him. Words to describe how he felt could not be perfectly conjured up within his mind. It could not be properly executed through his lips. Instead, it was expressed through tea with honey.


	2. Tea With Honey (Pt.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea has the power to heal. Honey makes things sweet. When combined, it is the most delicious medicine in the world. However, can tea with honey be used to describe the unspoken word?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short like Zangara

They started ignoring him whenever it happened. They had pushed him into his room and locked the door, waiting for hours until he was “better” and “healthy” again. They turned up the volume on their radios and televisions. They start speaking louder and taking walks whenever it happened. They keep him in his room until he stopped making noise. They wait and then let him out as if nothing had happened. They talk to him as if they never acted as if he was not there. They pretend to care as if they have been there for every moment he had suffered. None of their pretending had felt real. No one was genuine with their words. The only one to show solicitude was the Balladeer, but eventually, that faded away too. So, Giuseppe Zangara kept himself locked up in his room, knowing no one would care. 

Until one day, his door was unlocked and opened. In came Charles Guiteau with a mug of steaming whatever and a broad smile splattered on his face. Zangara groaned in annoyance upon seeing the monomaniac Christian. Immediately he had thrown a pillow at the madman before yelling at him to get out. He then threw his covers over his face, feeling the bearded nutjob still looking at him.

“Come on, try it,” Zangara remembered Guiteau telling him, “It’ll help your stomach. I know it will.”

“What is it?” Zangara asked, keeping his eyes barely out of the covers as he watched Guiteau explain excitedly with his usual toothy smile. 

“It’s tea with honey,” Guiteau answered, “It’s good tea too. Should help you get better.”

“I want no tea,” Zangara sneered, eyeing the mug in Guiteau’s hand, “Leave.”

“Oh, come on,” Guiteau pressed, “It’s healthy. It’s tasty. It will help your stomach.”

“Leave,” Zangara growled, feeling the fire in his stomach expand. 

“I’ll just keep it here for now,” Guiteau placed the tea on Zangara’s nightstand as the shorter man rolled his eyes, “You can try it later when it’s cooler.”

Guiteau headed to the door light with his steps before turning his to give Zangara a quick smile as he left. He didn’t close the door and locked it. Zangara let out a heavy groan in both annoyance and pain as he rolled over to face the wall. The aroma of the tea began to escape the mug, exploring the small room, touching every corner. Zangara’s nose itched as it then took in the sweet taste of the air. Zangara forced himself to sit still, enduring through the smell of the tempting tea, hoping it will dissipate at one point. It never did. 

Seduced by the scent of the tea, Zangara turned around once more and snatched the mug from the nightstand. The warmth of the cup comforted his hands as he pulled it closer. He peered into the container, observing the liquid inside. Its golden surface glistened, reflecting off the little light in the room. The sweet smell secluded Zangara like a sanctuary of comfort. Zangara breathed in the taste of the sugary air before letting it out to cool the faint steam line. He gently put his lips against the ceramic, warm surface and began to drink the tea. Warmth engulfed Zangara’s body as the tingling sweet nectar of the tea rolled off his tongue and down his throat.

His stomach was still on fire, and the tea didn’t help push it down as heavily as he wanted it to, but it had become a distraction from it. The tea was a warm companion that had set Zangara’s tensions at ease, and Zangara wanted more of it. It was an amenity he didn’t want to lose forever. So the next day, Zangara pulled Guiteau to the side.

“You have more…?” Zangara whispered, keeping his voice low, and averting from the other man’s eyes. 

“More what” Guiteau questioned, cocking his head to the side and keeping his voice up. 

“Sssh!” Zangara harshly shushed, “I no want no one knowing… Do you ‘ave tea?”

“Yes,” Guiteau answered, keeping his voice low this time. A smile started to climb from ear to ear on Guiteau’s beard face which caused Zangara to internally groan.

“Sì,” Zangara muttered, “I want more…”

Ever since that encounter, Zangara would always let Guiteau enter his room whenever his stomach was on fire. Bringing in the tea was a requirement, but immediately leaving wasn’t. It hadn’t been for a while as Guiteau used to come and then depart on order. However, Zangara’s stomach started to gradually become empty with only the fire as the unpleasant companion. The tea even no longer fills him with as much comfort as it had before. So Zangara started to let Guiteau stay longer. Guiteau was a hard man to shut up, but he would be quiet when Zangara only asks twice, which was a rarity.

Guiteau’s presence was like the tea and honey before. Zangara was engulfed with the smell of Charles Guiteau as he was comforted by his figure. He had never once enjoyed such silence in his life until the silence he had enjoyed with Guiteau. Soon the tea with honey was his excuse. His excuse to let Guiteau stay longer. His excuse to hear his voice. His excuse to look into the other man’s dark, blue, mysterious eyes. His excuse to feel a heat far different from the fire in his stomach or the tea with honey. But the tea with honey was the only way to go through with what he wanted. And what he wanted was Guiteau.

So laying in bed with Guiteau, holding onto him, Zangara didn’t want to let go. However, Guiteau had stayed longer than he usually had, so Zangara left up his head and whispered lightly into his ear. 

“Can you get more tea with ‘oney...?” Zangara asked, keeping his arms wrapped around the other man, not loosening his grip.

“Yes...” Guiteau whispered back, keeping his arms around Zangara as a small smile twitched upon his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zangara was probably in too much pain to drink irl, but *dabs*
> 
> Also, from what I've heard, Italians don't pronounce the "h" very well.

**Author's Note:**

> Been meeting to write Gangara forever! Hope y'all enjoyed it uwu


End file.
